Letting His Hair Down
by coprime
Summary: Heero muses one night while brushing Duo's hair. mm


Title: Letting His Hair Down  
  
Pairing: Heero/Duo  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been, never will. Please don't sue.  
  
Summary: Heero muses one night while brushing Duo's hair.  
  
Warnings: Two guys acting fluffy and sweet towards each other in a romantic way. Deal with it, or leave.  
  
Notes: There're a lot of unconnected notes, so I'm going to do them as a list.  
(1) I started this fic one morning after getting about 40 minutes of sleep the night before due to a school project. Amazing what can inspire one, isn't it? (To reassure anyone reading this, I have gone over the thing since then. It is *not* the demented ramblings of a sleep-deprived brain.)  
  
(2) My own hair ends at just past my butt. So, a good deal of this was written from my own experience. I don't claim that this is what it's like for everyone with long hair, but it's true for me. (On a side note, I haven't cut my hair within the past five years. I'm proud of this fact.)  
  
(3) The fic starts in Duo's perspective and then switches to Heero's. There's no break in the action though. And also, it's a pre-established relationship.  
  
Feedback: I put time and effort into making this something *I* like. If you like it too, would it kill you to take five seconds and say so? I'll even accept criticism.  
  
~Letting His Hair Down~  
  
Duo stumbled through the doorway of the single-room hut that temporarily served as his and Heero's safe house. He regarded Heero as the boy sat down at the small, lone table and opened up his laptop. Bastard didn't look tired at all. And he *knew* that Heero had been up for the past twenty-nine and a half hours-- if not more-- same as him, busy taking out an OZ base. So now, of course the first thing the Perfect Soldier did was type up his report on the mission. Well, if Heero could manage to type without having rested first, then he could too.  
  
*****  
  
Sitting at his laptop, Heero glanced at Duo. The braided pilot had sat down and dug his *own* laptop out of God-only-knew where. Now, he was trying diligently to type something but kept getting a distant look on his face. When Duo noticed his attention slipping, he'd jerk himself upright and sit ramrod-straight for a second before hunching back over.  
  
Heero finished his e-mail to Dr. J, telling of the success of the mission, and shut down the computer. He stood, kicking his boots off before he sat cross-legged on the edge of their bed. Duo watched Heero-- and the bed-- briefly with longing but turned back to his own glowing blue screen.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes mentally. Duo could be just as stubborn as he was at times.  
  
"Put away the computer."  
  
"No, Heero." Duo interrupted his assertion with a large yawn before continuing. "I've got to finish my report." He ended by rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Hn. Baka. C'm'ere." Heero rested his chin in one cupped palm and waited.  
  
Duo pulled his arms in closer to his body, ignoring Heero, and continued to type using his right hand. The left was tucked up next to his stomach.  
  
After a minute, he looked up at his words. Then he blinked at them. Sighing, he began to backspace. Duo turned the computer off after most of what had been on the screen was deleted.  
  
Duo stood but hesitated to cross the short distance between him and the bed. Instead, he ran one hand over his hair, smoothing it down in the process. Over the course of the day, the braid had loosened, and now numerous fly-aways of hair had sprung up everywhere. But Duo-- normally fastidious about the upkeep of his hair-- had not yet bothered to rebraid it.  
  
Heero still waited patiently. He could outwait anyone, especially a Duo who *wanted* to climb into bed.  
  
Heero noticed Duo shivering slightly.  
  
"You remember how warm these blankets are, don't you?"  
  
Duo nodded and finally sat on the bed. He probably thought Heero's talking indicated impatience. In reality, Heero would allow Duo his victory if it got Duo to stop worrying about impressing him.  
  
Duo took off his boots but didn't bother with the priest's outfit before clambering under the covers. For once, the boys had lucked out and gotten a decent bed. Heero could have lived without the huge comforter, but he enjoyed watching Duo cocoon himself, pulling the bedspread up to his chin.  
  
Despite his tiredness, Duo had trouble falling asleep. He lay on his back, staring at the beige-colored ceiling.  
  
"Heero, why don't you join me under here?"  
  
"...Because I want to make sure you actually *go* to sleep."  
  
Duo snorted. "It might be a while. At least one of us should be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.  
  
Heero didn't answer. If he went along with Duo's wishes, then Duo simply would go back to his computer. Heero didn't understand Duo's need to match him at everything-- after all, Duo was a perfectly good pilot; he just had different methods-- but it did make life interesting.  
  
Except when the baka pilot refused to take care of himself.  
  
Heero picked up Duo's hairbrush from the nightstand. He tugged the small elastic band off the end of the braid and placed it where the brush had been.  
  
While Heero untwisted the three bunches of hair that made up the braid, Duo spoke up.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm going to brush your hair. So enjoy it while it lasts."  
  
"Mmm.... 'Kay," a placated Duo purred.  
  
Because of the braid, Duo's hair had very few knots. Once those were out, Heero used a gentler stroke to brush the lengthy hair.  
  
Soon the light, rhythmic tug of the brush pulling on Duo's hair-- and therefore his scalp-- quieted him. He fell asleep not long after.  
  
Heero knew the instant that Duo slipped into slumber but continued to brush anyway. He told himself that it was because he didn't want Duo to wake if he stopped. Truthfully, Heero knew that he continued for his own sake more than Duo's.  
  
Brushing someone's hair was more intimate than sex, it seemed to him. Anyone could have a one-night stand, but one didn't let some stranger from a bar play with one's hair. As far as he knew, the only other person to have the privilege of touching Duo like this was Sister Helen.  
  
Also, Duo's hair just felt... nice. It was smooth and silky and had large crimps from the twists of the braid. With every pass of the brush, Duo's hair got a little bit smoother and a little bit silkier. The crimps wouldn't leave until Duo washed his hair.  
  
Duo always braided his hair immediately after showering, not even bothering to comb it for fear of combing out the conditioner, so Heero very rarely was granted the chance to see it straight.  
  
Heero wasn't sure how much he liked Duo's hair straight. While he would never presume-- now-- to tell Duo how to wear his hair, the braid had become an integral part of Duo in his mind. When left down, the crimps were a visible reminder of how the hair wanted to be styled. They would even help guide one in the task of rebraiding the huge mass.  
  
Heero knew he never had to worry about Duo cutting his hair. They'd had a conversation once early on-- before they were lovers even-- about how much easier short hair would be to care for. For the sake of the mission, Heero had argued.  
  
To put it euphemistically, Duo had not been open to the idea. To put it realistically, Duo had promised to emasculate Heero with the very scissors that had dared to touch his hair. And Shinigami never lied.  
  
The topic never came up again.  
  
Duo shifted in his sleep, dragging his hair away from Heero and the brush.  
  
Heero looked at the bedside clock. The inch-high, glowing red numbers told him it had been fifty-eight minutes since he'd started brushing Duo's hair. Heero placed the brush next to the small, black tie.  
  
Duo's hair shimmered slightly with the scant illumination provided by the street lamp outside. Despite the fact that he knew Duo wouldn't be appreciative of the comparison, Heero was reminded of fairytale princesses whose hair received a thousand strokes every morning to make sure it was the epitome of royal beauty.  
  
Of course, reality was harsher than that-- even for hair. Too much brushing would make the strands fall out.  
  
And there was no "royal beauty" in the many hairs clogging the brush. Heero smiled as he remembered some of Duo's more... colorful complaints about the amount of shedding he did. Just because Duo wouldn't cut his hair didn't mean he wouldn't gripe about the mess it made.  
  
Heero cleaned the hairbrush so that Duo wouldn't have to in the morning.  
  
Heero didn't strip before sliding under the covers and into bed, but he did make sure to move Duo's hair above their heads so it wouldn't be pulled inadvertently while they slept.  
  
Duo was on his side, curled into a ball, facing away from Heero.  
  
Heero pulled in close to Duo so that his chest was touching the other's back. Even through three layers of cloth, Heero could feel the heat of Duo's body.  
  
In response to Heero's presence, Duo uncurled his legs and entangled them with Heero's. He shifted-- or maybe flipped would be the better word-- onto his other side and clutched Heero's tank top within his hands. All without waking up.  
  
Heero wrapped his arms around Duo. One hand cupped the back of Duo's head and lightly pushed it forward until Duo's moist breath warmed his neck.  
  
By morning, Heero knew he'd be sweating under the thick comforter. But he also knew it was worth it for the chance to take advantage of this night. 


End file.
